Fools and Kings
by Persephone's Kiss
Summary: Lancelot returns and something is different about him ... Merlin finds himself scared and strangely intrigued at the same time. Will he resist temptation or lose his head in a swirl of dark passion?   dark!Lancelot/Merlin
1. Chapter 1

_**About this fic:**_

**Pairings:** dark!Lancelot/Merlin, with implied one-sided Merlin/Arthur.

**Warnings:** dark!Lancelot, borderline dark!Merlin, slash, explicit sexual content, spoilers up to 4x08, purple prose (what else did you expect from me? XD), some swearing, possibly incorrect use of the English language (I am _not_ a native speaker and not that familiar with British English, but I'm trying)

**Dedicated to:** All the Mercelot lovers out there. I sometimes think I'm the only one who actually prefers this pairing over Merthur … (Not that Merthur isn't awesome, but it's not even close to the divine perfection that is Merlin/Lancelot 3)

**Notes:** Well, I think the warnings say it all. I just kind of wanted to write this, so I did. I quite like the outcome. Maybe I'll write more.

Takes place somewhere in season 4. Slightly AU, since Gaius is dead in this. In this version, Agravaine has killed him in 4x08, leading Arthur to believe the physician was a traitor and causing Merlin to grow very bitter about it all.

PS: It's my first English _Merlin_ fanfic. Also, my first lemon in this language. Feel free to point out any mistakes, I'm willing to learn.

**BGM:**** "Confessions of a Blackheart" **by the** Genitorturers**

X

Something had fallen out of place. Ever so quietly, almost unnoticeable, yet with greater impact than anyone could have guessed, much like a single snowflake that had caused the once so strong, firm tree of all that was real to finally collapse under the weight of piled up icy sorrow.

The façade had come to crack; what was hidden underneath turned out to be ugly and rotten to the core.

Camelot was not the place it used to be.

While Arthur was a good king, supported by Guinevere, his clever and kind-hearted queen, as well as by his loyal knights, Morgana's attempts to destroy his reign had finally begun to bear fruit. The vicious plans she had made, the traitors she had placed among the court had slowly but surely eaten at the foundations of the kingdom until its very bones had now become brittle, weary of the burden they had to carry.

Merlin knew the feeling full well.

He was sick of the games he had to play. The disguise became thinner and thinner with each time he had to use his powers in order to protect his king and save the land, all while he was aware that as soon as anyone found out, Merlin would be burned at the stake for his good deeds and loyalty. It was frustrating and day after day, his hopes of living in a kingdom where magic was accepted and used for good withered away a little more as he watched Arthur growing even more bitter whenever magic was used as a force against him .

No matter the circumstances, Merlin stayed almost unconditionally loyal to Arthur and was devoted to him with all of his heart (after all, it was true what Kilgharrah had said – _a half cannot hate what makes it whole_), but it was tiresome and lately, it had become so very, very hard to chase away the strange, chilling sensation that had somehow afflicted the warlock's heart: _Doubt_.

Was this still the right thing to do? People of magic – his kin, as he had been told – still suffered at the hands of the king of Camelot and even though Arthur, unlike his father, showed mercy more often than not, there was no sign that the persecution of magic would end soon.

Instead of peace, there was war. Agravaine's poisonous advise had caused mistakes to be made and people to suffer, even die.

And then, he had done the unforgivable.

Merlin did not like to think about it, but the knowledge was there, a burden resting on his fragile shoulders and ruling his every day. He had started to mistrust every stranger he came across, something he had never done before, the naïve and meek boy he had been all his life. How he missed those days of innocence, those before he had seen the people close to him die and those he had put high hopes in had turned his back on him and betrayed him.

Maybe that was the reason. Maybe that was why he had given in to this so quickly. Maybe there was something comforting about knowing the man his arms was, without a shred of doubt, a traitor.

It was wrong. It was risky. It was insane.

But it felt bizarrely _good_.

For the first time in ages, Merlin felt like he could actually breathe again as his bedfellow for this night pinned him down into the mattress, trailing small, flaming kisses all over his frail neck and chest.

The sheer madness of the fact he was giving his body to an enemy made Merlin's skin crawl with a mixture of fear, guilt, excitement and simply blatant lust unlike anything the boy had ever experienced before. This was the first time he was the one using someone else, if only to satisfy the impure, malicious needs of both his body and soul. Such behaviour was _nothing_ like him.

So why was he unable to stop?

_It's only for tonight_, he told himself. _A few hours of ease. A simple game of cat and mouse. It means nothing really. _

Choking back another groan as the other man's tongue lightly teased his nipple, Merlin closed his eyes firmly and, for a second, tried to forget who it was that brought him so much pleasure. It made things easier. Merlin tried to let go, with his fingers clinging so desperately to his lover's full locks and his muffled screams becoming louder, but he did not manage. He was too afraid of falling for the trap that had been set for him – too afraid, his heart could speak up and demand its price for nearly breaking under every single touch.

There was still a part inside of him that was bleeding with grief over how this single, stupid night would sully the well-loved image of the dear friend Merlin had kept deep down in the shadows of his soul.

_I'm sorry,_ Merlin thought, knowing full well that it was a little too late for that now. _Please forgive me, Lancelot … _

None of his words was addressed to the man sharing Merlin's bed just in this moment. No – that was not Lancelot. Just a body that looked suspiciously like his. But what was underneath the mask had nothing to do with the good-hearted, virtuous knight the warlock had grown so close to before his selfless sacrifice.

_That_ was the Lancelot Merlin had wished to remember. Not this mysterious black-clad twin that had suddenly appeared out of nowhere and was so obviously not Lancelot even Merlin had felt it from the very second he had caught the other man's gaze for the first time, despite being overjoyed by happiness to know his friend back among the living.

Something just was not right about this.

Merlin certainly was no fool, no matter what everyone thought of him. It was obvious that the man whose touches and kisses swiped him off his feet with such ease was not the same Lancelot he knew.

Yet … _it did not matter._ Not a single bit.

The feeling of losing his head was just too delicious not to devour it with intense hunger.

He could feel the rhythm of his breath quickening along with his racing pulse, which by now was so intense his heart seemed dangerously close to breaking his ribcage with each painful beat. Sweat was dripping down his skin, burning in his eyes as he lay there, unable to do anything other than staring up to the man on top of him and indulge himself in the poisonous beauty that was Sir Lancelot – he, who had once been as pure as snow and now lit up all the fires of hell just beneath Merlin's skin.

The slightly older man knew how to toy with the boy's senses, covering his white skin with playful kisses as the knight's cunning fingers gently caressed Merlin's body in all the places that would make his mind go blank and his insides clench in a lot of good ways.

Sure, it was torture just as much as it was the closest thing to heaven (or at least a vicious parody thereof) Merlin had ever experienced, but there was no chance he would have ever wanted it to stop.

How long had this been going already? Maybe it was no more than a few minutes, but it felt like hours – if time still was of any importance right now. There was but a small piece of reason left for Merlin and as lust grew, it became even harder for him to hold on to the slippery rope called 'rationality' which was the only thing saving him from falling into the pitch black abyss already hungrily awaiting him beyond.

What on earth was he doing? He could feel his sanity drifting further and further away under the touch of Lancelot's all too clever hands … and he was loving every minute of it.

Those long, sensual fingers were secretly claws, ripping at his skin, forcibly pulling off his cheerful, naïve mask and revealing the rotten flesh that was hidden underneath, so hideous and yet so beautiful. The stench of his own sin was the most abhorrent thing Merlin could have ever imagined … but at the same time, it was such a seductive perfume, oddly alluring, so sweet it is was downright revolting.

Impossible to endure, impossible to resist.

Merlin knew fine well that what he did was wrong, but he had no intent of fighting it. All he could do was lie there and give in to the overwhelming sensations while his hungry eyes greedily took in the sight of those darker ones that now somehow seemed to have a hint of red in them when the pale moonlight hit them in the right angle. Oh, and those lips! Those lips that seemed to never stop smiling for even a second – when they were not locked with Merlin's, that was. Mesmerized by the taste of evil still lingering on his tongue, the warlock allowed himself to slide his hand up to the other man's neck and pull him into another passionate kiss.

Lancelot was all too eager to participate. Almost violently, his tongue invaded Merlin's mouth and he kissed him so deeply as if he was trying to suck his very soul right out of his body.

Merlin did not complain. Right now, he would not have minded if his lover for a night had slowly drained him of all life-force until the very last drop. _This_ was more than worth it. Merlin had never felt anything like this before. In fact, he could barely believe this was even real. Or maybe it was not real after all? It almost seemed that way … It all had happened too quickly, to suddenly.

One second, he had been lost in dreamless, exhausted slumber and in the next, without any warning, he had found himself in the arms of a beautiful demon, an incubus infesting his sleep. Lancelot had just _been_ there, coming out of nowhere, sitting on the edge of Merlin's bed and smirking to himself as if this all was some kind of subtle joke only he understood.

At first, thinking this was but a dream, Merlin had not questioned his lost friend's presence and just played along. Words had not been needed; this was _his_ dream; he could do as he pleased. Somehow, they had kissed before Merlin had gotten the chance to say more than the knight's name. The young warlock was not even sure if it had been him who had kissed Lancelot or if it had been the other way around, but it did not matter anyway – from this fateful moment on, their bodies had simply taken over when their minds were lost for an explanation. It all had happened so fast Merlin's head had not stopped spinning yet – he still could not believe that he really felt Lancelot's naked flesh against his own, that the other man really was on top of him, _inside_ of him, making him moan and scream and fear for his sanity with each and every single thrust.

This could not possibly be real. No, it could not. It just made no sense. This had to be a bizarre dream, a foul trick of his weary mind. In the morning, Merlin would wake up in his own sweat, his bed sheets sullied and messy, but he would be alone. The aftermath of the dream would last for a while, but eventually, the imaginary taste of his dead friend's skin and lips – this unique mixture of resin and vermouth – would fade away, leaving nothing but a faint memory of Merlin's own shameful thoughts. He would bury them deep inside his soul and never speak about it to anyone.

Thinking back, he had always thought Lancelot incredibly attractive. Yes, that had to be it. Merlin's feelings for the knight had never been exclusively platonic, of that he was sure - but he probably had lusted for him yet a little more than he had realized until now and this strange … _dream_ … was the result of his repressed desires. Nothing more.

After all, it had been a while since he last had shared a bed with another this way. He was a man, he had needs. This was perfectly normal.

If only he had not been so aware of the fact that his mind could not have come up with _this_ even in his wildest fantasies …

Eventually, Lancelot broke their kiss again, allowing Merlin to breathe for a bit.

"You are so beautiful, do you know that?", the knight whispered to him, gently brushing his lips over the boy's temple and hair. "Not handsome or anything like that – just beautiful. There is no other word for it."

Merlin knew he would have blushed if his blood had not been needed elsewhere. He had always thought of himself as fairly good-looking – nothing outstanding, but by no means ugly – but this was the first time someone had actually complimented him on his looks.

"You're not too bad yourself", he answered with a wide grin on his face. Damn, that sure as hell was a major understatement. Lancelot was so absurdly gorgeous is was almost ridiculous. The dim light casting shadows all over his perfect features actually made things even worse.

Merlin could not believe how much he wanted him. Longingly, he let his fingers trail over Lancelot's muscular chest, all the way up to his neck, the pronounced jaw, the high cheek bones. No matter how hard he tried, Merlin could not find a single flaw about the knight's face, but at the same time, it surely was not his features alone which made him so irresistible.

It was those eyes.

Once filled with sorrow and never-ending sadness, dark and turbid like the clouded sky, they now radiated something else, a mysterious cold light, cunning and ambitious. And they were absolutely _beautiful_. The look they gave Merlin had written 'danger' all over it, yet this was exactly the reason the warlock could not help desiring Lancelot more than anything else in this world.

Merlin had never thought he could one day be so overthrown by physical desire. Before this night, he had always been a bit of a romantic. The type who was looking for a love that could last a lifetime. All his life, he had been dreaming of a sweet wife and children … Or a maybe a male lover he could grow old with side by side. It did not matter as long as they truly loved and mutually trusted each other.

Yes, that was what Merlin had wanted. The thought of seeking out someone just for the sake of getting some sexual pleasure from them had never occurred to him before. He was not sure why he had changed his mind so suddenly, but it was an urge he could not fight; a passion far greater than what his mind could comprehend, something primal and animalistic. And truth be told, Merlin was not nearly as surprised about how much he loved this crazy, possibly suicidal interplay of danger and pleasure – after all, one of his most outstanding talents was the power he held over fire and his control over the storms that would make the flames rise even higher.

This was not the first time the dark side had tempted him and it would not be the last, though tonight would be the one and only time he would give in to the toxic, yet saccharine words and allow himself to dive as deep as possible into the tight, velvet embrace of night.

Moaning once again, Merlin closed his eyes for a second and dug his fingernails firmly into Lancelot's shoulder as he felt the other man's lips travelling over his sensitive neck. The stubble on the knight's chin tickled a bit on the boy's skin, but it only enhanced the sensation. Why did Merlin not fear with this vicious beast's teeth so close to his throat? Instead, the mere thought sent shivers of delight all over his body.

"Do you like it, Merlin?", Lancelot asked, his voice soft and polite as ever, only tainted by a certain smugness in the low chuckle following his words. The mention of his own name made Merlin shudder. He could not say if it was in a good way or not.

The hand not busy scratching Lancelot's bronze skin bloody still lingered on the knight's cheek, with its thumb absent-mindedly stroking the rough skin in disbelieving admiration.

Apparently, at least judging from the look on his face, Lancelot found this most amusing. Gently, he grabbed the servant boy's hand and respectfully kissed his reddened fingertips before seductively taking them into his mouth one after one, lightly sucking on each digit.

It did not seem like much, but for Merlin, it was the most erotic thing something had ever done to him in his entire life. He had not known that his hands were this sensitive …

With every time the other man's lips brushed over his palm and wrists ever so lightly, he groaned louder, allowing himself to let that feeling of immense pleasure wash over him like a wave and drown his senses even more. And then, before he even realized what he was doing, he lost control completely.

In a single swift motion, he turned both their bodies around, forcefully pushing Lancelot into the mattress while straddling his hips. The knight was visibly surprised, but did not complain for a second. Instead, he even seemed rather intrigued by the spontaneous gesture.

"What are you doing, my friend?", he asked with fake disappointment in his voice, but his vicious grin still perfectly in place. "Did I not please you?"

"Don't worry, you are amazing", Merlin responded truthfully. "It's just that I wanted to show you some of _my_ skills for a change. Just lean back and let me do the work for a while, I promise I'll give my best …"

Teasingly, he moved his pelvis a little, receiving a loud moan from Lancelot.

"More", the knight demanded immediately and, gladly, Merlin granted him his wish. The warlock knew he had just crossed another line, but he really had wanted to be in control over what was happening to him or he had been too scared of would was happening to him.

Even this way, every movement of his body felt so good, with Lancelot's manhood sliding in and out, gently rubbing against the Merlin's insides, the boy could hardly keep in touch with reality.

It took him a while to find the right rhythm, but once he had adjusted to a convenient pace, the whole experience was simply mind-blowing. He had always liked to be on top like this, able to look down upon his lover and spoil him with caresses and the smooth movements of his hips.

And while he knew that Lancelot was hardly a _lover, _Merlin still enjoyed the look of pleasure on the knight's face and the feel of the surprisingly soft skin beneath his greedy hands.

"Oh Merlin, you really know how to make a man happy", he heard Lancelot say with great satisfaction. "Who taught you this? Arthur?"

"Arthur?" Merlin cringed slightly at the thought. _Sharing a bed with Arthur … _Not that the thought had not been crossing his mind before, but he preferred not to contemplate it too much. That could not possibly be good for his mental health … So he quickly pushed the thought aside, blushing a little.

"We're not … you know … like _that_", he informed Lancelot coolly. "He's just my master and my friend."

"Would you like to try him?", the knight enquired further, rendering Merlin even more flustered.

"I've never looked at him like that."

"Don't think you can lie to me, Merlin", Lancelot advised him and the man's grin just grew even wider. Provokingly, he grabbed Merlin's hardened member with a quick motion and rolled the boy over again so they both came to lie side by side, still oddly entangled with each other.

The young warlock winced quietly, almost jumping over the edge when he felt his lover's firm grip and the change in position caused Lancelot's manhood to brush over that very special place inside of him.

"What are you doing?", Merlin stammered, feeling helpless like a moth trapped in a spider's web.

"Making sure you don't lie to me again", Lancelot said, gently kissing the boy's neck.

_(Injecting the poison …)_

Provokingly, he let his tongue slide down Merlin's throat, right where the warlock could feel his own pulse racing through his veins.

_(Devouring the prey from inside out ...)_

"Oh dear God, you sure are endearing in every single way, Merlin …", Lancelot mumbled with his lips pressed against his lover's white skin. "Arthur doesn't know what he's missing …"

"I told it's not-", Merlin protested, but he was silenced when Lancelot squeezed his member even tighter, successfully making the boy's mind go blank immediately. The knight knew what he was doing. His teasing caresses and touches were so intense they almost hurt.

_Almost_.

"Your body is a lot more honest than you are", Lancelot snickered, looking into his lover's eyes as if he was searching for some secret hidden behind the steel blue surface. "I can feel you twitching down _there_ when I merely mention Arthur's name." He paused to quickly kiss Merlin on the lips. "It's fine. He is quite good-looking, now isn't he."

"S'ppose he is …", Merlin murmured to himself. He did not like this topic. It made him feel even more vulnerable than he already was. "Now will you please shut up and let me get on with this? I don't want to talk about other guys while being in bed with you."

"Aw, that's sweet of you", Lancelot mocked him with a disgustingly sugary, sticky tenderness in his voice that vaguely reminded of his former benignity, just twisted into something dark and malicious. "Are you getting impatient?"

Merlin nodded silently; the mood had cooled down a little, but his body was still hot and yearning for release. However, when Lancelot continued to softly caress his chest and legs, obviously eager to make this last forever, Merlin suddenly felt sick. There was a sour taste upon his tongue and his stomach started to clench.

He did not want Lancelot to treat him with tenderness and patience like a _real_ lover. He could not stand the smug smile upon the other man's otherwise so beautiful face and he certainly did not want to be treated with affection.

This was not supposed to be love. Pretending it was turned it into something utterly revolting.

Disgusted, Merlin pushed the knight away.

"Please, stop", he could hear himself say.

"What's wrong?", Lancelot asked softly. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, that's not it. But I want … I need …" Merlin felt his eyes fall shut for a second. He took a deep breath.

"Fuck me", he finally exclaimed.

"Merlin, what exactly do you think I'm doing?", Lancelot tried to laugh it off, but Merlin did not let him finish.

"You know what I mean. Just shut your mouth and do it already!"

The warlock had not wanted to shout, it just happened. He was panting heavily now, but that did not stop him from pulling the other man into an angry kiss that much more resembled a bite.

Lancelot seemed astonished by these actions, even if his surprise did not last long. Before Merlin had even a chance to do anything, he was turned around on his knees – so easily as if he was nothing more than a straw doll.

With one swift motion Lancelot slammed all the way back into Merlin's tightness, making the boy whimper and moan in pain and pleasure alike. Yes, this was what he wanted.

Clenching his teeth and trying not to scream, he gripped the headboard of his bed so tightly his knuckles grew white, but he did not succeed. He just had to cry his pleasure out into the night.

Lancelot was in full power over him now – and he used it shamelessly to drive Merlin straight into insanity. His pace was quick, his every thrust so hard and deep the warlock could feel his eyes fill with tears of pain, but he did not want it any other way.

This was the first time he was not making love. Instead, it was just fucking. And that was _exactly_ how it was supposed to be: Raw. Feral. Aggressive.

Without any mercy, Lancelot pounded him from behind, fingers entwined in the boy's short, dark hair, pulling his head back and exposing the vulnerable throat for his tongue to explore.

Merlin gasped in excitement, ecstasy and pain – all these odd, intense feelings boiling inside of his body and soul.

"I … can't …", Merlin stammered when he could feel his muscles stiffen, preparing for climax. He could not hold on much longer. Not like this.

Lancelot just chuckled above him, going even faster. Every place of Merlin's body he touched now seemingly began to sear; the heat was too much for the frail boy to handle.

White lights exploding in front of his eyes, he spilled his hot, sticky seed all over his own pillow before he collapsed unto the bed. Lancelot finished quickly after him, using his now limb body like a lifeless doll to find satisfaction.

Merlin did not mind. His mind and body had gone numb. He did not care about anything right now, least of all about the small, tender kisses Lancelot placed upon his shoulders for a while before rolling to the side and idly caressing Merlin's back with one hand.

"Thank you, Merlin", he whispered. "That was a wonderful way to welcome me back to Camelot."

He laughed quietly, but Merlin did not respond. The boy was glad for all that exhaustion blurring his conscience. He knew that, once the sleepiness was gone, guilt would be washing over him like a giant tidal wave, crushing him underneath the burden of what he had done tonight.

A part of him wanted to push Lancelot out of his bed and forget about all this, but he could not find the strength to do that. So he just lay there, avoiding the other man's look and trying not to pay attention to the soft, affectionate touches.

"You are beautiful", Lancelot said again, slowly running his fingertips down his lover's spine.

"Would you please stop saying that?", Merlin retorted. He was becoming annoyed with all of this, mostly because he knew that it was nothing but sweet-talking. Whoever had sent that demon with his old friend's face (it probably once more was Morgana's deed) most likely tried to gain Merlin's trust. The warlock could not allow for himself to be flattered by the love and attention he was so starved off – he knew that, in the end, he would be betrayed.

Playing with fire as dangerous as this, he had to be careful. He could not let Lancelot know that he was well aware of his dark intentions, but he could not give in either.

_If only it was so easy …_

"But it's true", Lancelot reassured him, gently planting a kiss upon Merlin's temple. "You should see yourself through my eyes. Do you know what I see in you?"

"A pretty damsel in distress?", Merlin joked without any enthusiasm, hoping to cut the conversation off as quickly as possible, only for the knight to softly grab his chin and force him to look into those dark brown eyes that Merlin despised and admired so much at the same time.

"I see a man who is fit to be a king", Lancelot said in a hushed tone, but with unwavering certainty.

"Me, a king? Don't be a fool, Lancelot." Merlin could not help but laugh. He had never even dared to dream about such an outrageous idea. Of course Lancelot was just trying to flatter him, but why did he have to overdo it so much?

"I mean it. Trust me: You have it all, Merlin. The wisdom. The strong will. The kindness. The charm. You deserve something better than just being Arthur's servant. How often have I dreamed about a kingdom under your rule instead of his? You would be the man I would love to devote my life to."

"I thought you had already devoted your life to Arthur."

"I have devoted my life to Camelot, not him. I only accept him as the legitimate king. That doesn't mean I can't wish for someone better to take his place."

"You're being silly. I am happy to be a servant." Merlin paused for a second. "I am happy to be _Arthur's_ servant."

He meant it. Power was utterly meaningless to him. All he wanted was a little recognition for what he did and lately, Arthur had begun to give him a lot more credit.

Needless to say, Merlin liked Arthur, as much of an ass as the king still was from time to time.

There was no way in the world Merlin would ever betray him.

"I'm sorry", Lancelot said. "It was just a thought. It's just … I'm really fond of you, Merlin. Probably more than is good for me. I certainly didn't mean to hurt your pride as a royal servant. Please forgive me."

"It's fine", Merlin grumbled. "Just let me rest now. I will have to get up early tomorrow, my chores don't do themselves on their own."

"Of course. Sleep well … _love_."

Merlin flinched at the last word. He did want this … this monster to even pretend to have feelings for him. It made him want to throw up.

Somehow he managed to just keep calm and ignore the implied closeness that almost seemed like a menace to him.

Instead, he just wished Lancelot a goodnight in return and rolled to the side, his back turned towards the knight who took the chance to embrace Merlin tightly from behind and bury his face in the boy's hair.

"I missed you, Merlin", he whispered and for the first time, it felt absolutely genuine.

"I missed you, too", Merlin mumbled, hardly conscious at this point, right before his eyes fell shut and he drifted off into dreamless, exhausted sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Welcome back, guys. Wow, I didn't expect that much attention for this fic! Thanks a lot, you are great!

Well … So I decided to continue this after all. Mostly because I was terribly deprived of Mercelot since Lancelot's second death ("Lancelot du Lac" sucked epically, but it still broke my heart), but also because I like the ideas I have for this.

This is now completely AU. Morgana used a different kind of spell and this changed the outcome … a lot.

I warn you: The second chapter is extremely awkward … This was intentional, so please bear with me a little. It will get better, even if season4!Merlin is the strangest character I have ever written about. Boy can't make up his mind. At all. And his sense of humour is weirder than mine … Which says a lot.

Whatever ^.^

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><p><strong><span>Added general notes:<span> **

Point of view: Merlin, occasionally Agravaine

Pairings: Besides Merlin/Lancelot, there will be Arthur/Guinevere, onesided Agravaine/Morgana, Agravaine/Guinevere, possibly Arthur/Merlin (which might or might not be onesided) and implied Morgana/Guinevere. (Gwen, you are as popular as ever … You sexy thing.)

Warnings: Basically everything I listed in the first Author's note, plus a little bit of het and possibly some minor violence. And awkwardness. Much, much awkwardness. Might turn into a dark!Merlin fic, I haven't decided yet.

Other: I'll look for a beta reader. I promise. If any of you feel the sudden need to help a poor German girl improve her English by correcting her stuff, feel free to tell me, I've had a hard time finding someone so far.

Enjoy! =)

**BGM:** Pati Yang – The Boy In Your Eyes

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><p>When Merlin woke up the next day, he was alone.<p>

The room was all silent, except for the faint sounds of daily business rising up from the streets beneath the single window. Laughter and the steady rhythm of horseshoes on the pavement made the thick air vibrate ever so softly and filled it with life. Everything seemed perfectly normal. Soft rays of the morning sun fell into the room and flickered across the wall like deceivingly shy fairy creatures.

Merlin felt a bit chilly today, probably because he was hopelessly tangled up in his blanket instead of peacefully slumbering underneath and covered in cold sweat from head to toe. Just like he had expected, the bedsheets were damp and sticky from sweat and semen, his mind was in complete chaos and somehow he had managed to get rid off his clothes in his sleep; they were now messily scattered across the floor right in front of the bed.

He almost wanted to believe he simply suffered from a slight hangover, despite not having drunk even one drop of alcohol during the past _weeks_.

Still, his head felt like it was close to bursting and when he thought back to what kind of dream had tormented him last night, he almost became physically sick.

He had some kind of standards, had he not?

There was no way he could have dreamt about sleeping with an evil version of his _dead best friend_! How messed up was that? It was not like him. He liked to play with fire and sure, it had been nothing but a dream, but there was a thing called respect – and Merlin had violated it, with immense pleasure even. Despite his doubts. Despite how disturbingly real it had seemed to him then …

If Lancelot had been there for real, had Merlin given in so easily as well? Now, that the intoxication of the dream had worn off, he did not think so. But still …

Moaning in agonising guilt, he rubbed his palm against his forehead until he felt awake enough to analyse this from a more rational perspective.

Obviously, his subconscious had wanted to do something morally wrong and expressed it in a dream. No big deal, right? There was no need to feel guilty for his fantasy. He only wished the little part inside of him that actually _wanted_ it all to be real would just shut the hell up and let him be. There was nothing to be done. No matter how hard he looked, there was no sign of Lancelot's presence anywhere. Except for-

Merlin shuddered as he sat up in his bed.

_The pain. _

Burning and tearing at him from inside. Hesitantly, Merlin's hand reached between his legs. Sticky moisture was covering his sore entrance, slowly dripping down his inner thighs.

_Oh my god … _

Instantly, his head started spinning again. The aftermath of a drug maybe? What on earth had he done last night? He was not sure he wanted to know the answer …

However, one fact clearly could not be denied: _Someone_ had slept with him last night – and judging from the pain, they had not been very gentle. Like in a trance, Merlin started to carefully examine his own body. There were a few bite marks and bruises here and there and when he brushed through his hair with his fingers, he found it in a complete mess, but other than that, he seemed to be fine.

He felt a bit relieved, but only a tiny little bit.

So at least now he knew he had not been brutally ravished by someone his fantasy tried to pass off as his dead friend. He had probably been ravished, yes, but at least not brutally.

Merlin almost wanted to laugh out loud about how surreal this all felt. This was a sick joke, nothing else. He should just forget it.

Slowly, he got up, feeling every single fibre in his body ache, and sloppily dressed himself to go and fetch some water for a bath and a drink. His throat was painfully dry and, for a very good reason, he felt filthy.

God, he was not sure he would be able to scrub the dirt off his skin ever again … Someone had raped him last night and he had not a single bloody clue who it could have been, for screaming out loud!

Frustrated, nervous and desperate at the same time, he opened the now empty physician's quarters and wanted to go downstairs, when just in this moment, he saw the dark clad figure of another man standing in the middle of the room, placing something onto the table.

_This isn't possible … _

"Lancelot!", Merlin cried out with a coarse voice and felt all colour vanishing from his face.

So it had not be a dream after all … Not that it made him feel any better.

"Hello Merlin", Lancelot said nonchalantly and simply smiled. "I was just about to go upstairs and wake you up. I thought I'd make breakfast for us, hope you don't mind."

Carefully as not to trip over his own feet, Merlin walked down the stairs without taking his eyes off of the other man for a single second. He just stared at him in disbelief, even when Lancelot walked over to him and quickly kissed him on the lips.

"Good morning, love …"

"Mornin'", Merlin replied, now completely and utterly puzzled. "So you really _are_ back …"

"Well, I guess I am", Lancelot said casually and softly caressed the warlock's cheek with his fingertips. "I think this is the happiest day of my life."

Chuckling lightly, he attempted to kiss the boy again, but this time, Merlin shied away from the touch of his lips. He could not accept the obvious truth so easily and fall prey for this strange enchantment he did not understand just yet. No, not like _this_.

"But how …", he asked, not really knowing how to finish his sentence without being too blunt.

He still could not believe this all was real. Last night, in the heat of the moment, he had not questioned it, thinking it was all just a dream, but now he could not pass it off as a mere trick of the mind any longer. It really was Sir Lancelot, in the flesh, and in fact he seemed a lot more like his old self in the morning light than he had last night. The hint of red had vanished from his eyes, only the usual soft dark brown remained and his smile seemed warm and genuine as he took Merlin's hand and gently pulled the boy over to the breakfast table.

"Let's sit down first", the knight said and pushed Merlin unto one of the two chairs in the room before he sunk down unto the other one so only the table separated them now.

Merlin nodded absent-mindedly. He did not care as long as he got his answer. In fact, he was glad to feel the steadiness of a wooden chair underneath his helplessly trembling body. Not sure about how to react, he just looked into Lancelot's eyes and tried to find the answer in their glistening depths.

"So, will you explain it to me now?"

"There is not much to explain", Lancelot tried to evade the question and sighed loudly when he realized Merlin would not be satisfied with just that. "Fine, here's the whole boring story: I passed through the veil and entered the world of the dead. And that's where I remained for a long, long time, until one day, I suddenly woke up somewhere in the woods, without any rhyme or reason. It just happened. So, after I had accepted the obvious truth, I decided to return to Camelot. Where else could I have gone? After all, it's the only place I know … The only home I've got in this world."

He paused for a moment and stared down unto the table to hide the hint of sadness in his eyes before he continued.

"I somehow managed to find Camelot and slip past the guards. I know I should not have done that, but it was in the middle of the night and I didn't want to cause any trouble, so I sneaked in like an outlaw. However, I could not sleep in a random street corner where I would have raised too much attention. I still needed a place to spend the night. And since I did not know where else to turn, I came here. Because I knew _you_ to be the only person in this world who would not forsake me in this situation."

His eyes rose to Merlin's again.

"I knew you wouldn't send me away. I knew you would understand, as you always do." A faint grin appeared on his face. "But to be honest, I did _not_ expect you to _kiss_ me out of the blue …"

Merlin could feel himself getting flustered at those words. So it had been him to take the initiative …

"I'm sorry", he apologised sheepishly. "It just kind of happened."

"No need to be sorry", Lancelot chuckled quietly and reached for Merlin's hand across the table. "I've wanted to kiss you forever. I just never found the courage to do so. How could I have known you were … you know, like _that_."

Merlin shrugged. "Well, this isn't exactly the kind of thing you can be open about around everybody. The laws of Camelot may accept it, but you know how people are. What was I supposed to do? You already knew about my other secret, I felt no need to tell you about this one as well."

"Have you told anybody at all?"

Slowly, Merlin shook his head.

"Not at Camelot, anyway. My mother knows. She is fine with it. She just wants me to be happy. Besides, it's not like I'm throwing myself at every man I see. I mostly look out for women. I want to have a family one day."

"But I wasn't your first man, now was I?" Lancelot slightly tilted his head to the side in curiosity.

"No", Merlin admitted reluctantly. He did not like where this was going. "No, you were not the first. But close. You were my second, actually."

"Then who was the first?"

The warlock hesitated. While there probably was nothing wrong with telling the truth, a part of him did not want to risk providing Lancelot with personal information like that. In the end, however, Merlin chose honesty over mistrust.

"His name was Will … William, actually", he explained as matter-of-factly as possible. "He was a childhood friend of mine, just a few months older than me and constantly getting me into trouble. I did not mind. Then, when we were sixteen, we had this fling going on for a while … It didn't work out the way we planned. I had to leave when people started to talk. About that _and_ my magic. The mob would've skinned me alive if they had ever found both rumours to be true …"

He was surprised about how good it actually felt to get this off his chest. He had not talked about it to anyone since he came to Camelot. Gaius would probably not have understood it. Arthur would not even have listened. Gwen, wholesome, the virtuous young woman she was, would have been too shocked at the confession to help.

But Lancelot – Lancelot was different. He simply gave his friend a sympathetic squeeze of the hand and looked at him with comforting brown eyes.

"Must have been hard for you", he said and from his voice, Merlin could tell he meant it.

"Oh, it was, believe me", the warlock replied and nervously started playing with the spoon lying in front of him, rolling it around on the surface of the table in erratic circles. This – all of this – just kept confusing him more and more. He just wanted to understand.

"What about you?", he asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. "I never would have guessed you liked seducing men. You seem more like the chaste heartbreaker type to me", he added jokingly to brighten up the mood. Oddly enough, it somehow worked.

"Never judge a book by its cover", Lancelot advised him with a sly grin. "But no … Actually, I don't really fancy men. You are an exception. But I have to confess you are not the first for me, either."

"I noticed that." Merlin curiously lifted an eyebrow. "How did it happen for you? Adolescent experiments? Alcohol? Love?"

"None of that, actually. The man who taught me how to use a sword demanded certain 'favours' in exchange for his lessons. Since I didn't have any money, what choice did I have?"

Astonished by that confession, Merlin stared at his old friend in bewilderment.

"You sold your body for the chance to _maybe_ become a knight of Camelot one day?", he repeated just to make sure he had gotten it right. "Good grief, you clearly are a lot more determined than I thought you were."

Lancelot merely shrugged.

"It wasn't that bad", he said but did not seem too sure about that himself. "My teacher was a drunkard and a very bitter, cynical man, but he was kind and gentle with me. He never forced me. He even made me enjoy it somehow. I do not regret what I did back then, but now that I know how it can be, I realise how meaningless it was. It doesn't even compare to the night we shared. That was the first time I actually wanted it and it felt so … _different_."

"Good different?"

"No." Lancelot smiled. "More like 'great different'. I did not know it could ever be like this … Not even with a woman."

"You sound like the heroine of a cheesy romantic tale", Merlin chuckled. It still felt uncomfortable, but he slowly warmed up to the thought of having Lancelot back and just getting over his doubts. Maybe he had been wrong about the whole 'evil' thing all along?

Lancelot seemed perfectly normal to him now. Even more broken and self-conscious than he used to be, but that could be the effects of the time behind the veil. And his sudden flirtatious attitude? Well, Merlin had _kissed_ him last night. Of course Lancelot would have taken that as an invitation for more.

"A romantic tale …", Lancelot thought out loud and smiled mischievously, looking deeply into the other man's eyes. "Maybe that's just how you make me feel?"

Merlin swallowed hard. That was … not what he had expected.

"What exactly do you mean by that?", he asked, frowning.

"Nothing", the knight answered calmly, entangling his fingers with the servant boy's. "But, if you don't mind, I would like to continue like this. I want to be with you."

"As my friend or as my … _lover_?"

Merlin did not like the taste of the last word. It _still_ felt so wrong in this context … But strangely right at the same time. He _wanted_ it. And he was scared at the same time.

"We'll see." Lancelot just kept smiling, then finally let go of his friend's hand so they could both start eating at last.

Merlin, too, picked up his wooden spoon and tried to turn his attention to the bowl in front of him which seemed to contain some kind of porridge that did not exactly look very appetising. Needless to say, he was very suspicious of the food anyway – after all he was surrounded by all kinds of poisons and he had read more than enough about magic potions …

It took him a while of careful examination, but after he did not sense or smell anything weird, he decided to be brave and try a little. It tasted fairly good. Not delicious, but edible enough. And, most importantly, it did not make him feel any different, except for the way it reminded him on how hungry he was.

"How is it?", Lancelot asked curiously while he eyed each of Merlin's gestures with obvious entertainment. "I fear I am a lousy cook, but I wanted to save you some time."

"It's not bad", the warlock replied truthfully. "Better than Gaius' cooking anyway."

His chest tightened when he said those words. He missed eating with his mentor, missed their cheerful chats and the laughter. The loss had ripped a whole into Merlin's life nothing could fill, no matter how hard he tried had to drown his sorrows in hard work, bad jokes and eventually an inconsiderate sexual encounter with his supposed-to-be-dead best friend.

"Merlin", Lancelot said in a soft, sympathetic tone, "I've been wanting to ask you this since I arrived last night and found this room empty, but I never seemed to find the right moment for it … So I will ask you now: Where _is_ Gaius?"

The silence between them became so thick you could almost cut it with a knife.

Merlin needed a moment before he had collected the strength to speak.

"He is … dead", he finally confessed, remaining as calm as he possibly could.

"Oh Merlin, I didn't-" Lancelot swallowed visibly. "How did it happen?"

"He was killed to protect his king", Merlin simply stated. That was all anyone needed to know.

Lancelot nodded in a empathetic manner.

"Loyal till the very end", he commented with great respect in his voice. "Like I would have expected from him."

He paused for a moment.

"I'm so sorry for your loss, Merlin. I wish I had something comforting to say."

"I can manage", Merlin reassured him with a weak smile. "Thank you. I'm glad you are here."

_God_, how much he meant those words …

And how much he wished he was lying!

He _knew_ he was not supposed to like the idea of having Lancelot back at his side, but he could not fight the feeling of solace he got from the other man's presence. After all, right now the knight was the only one who was aware about the warlock's secret and had not attempted to kill him because of it yet. They had been so close friends before Lancelot's sacrifice … Merlin missed that. He missed trusting someone so deeply. He missed having got someone to share all of his secrets without having to fear being judged for it – or worse.

With Lancelot, it all seemed so easy again. As natural as when they first met and laid their lives into each other's hands. A bond had been made that day. And this bond could not be broken … Or so Merlin would have liked to believe.

Yet, right now, it was but a lie. All of it.

Whatever might have been between them – feelings of trust, loyalty and friendship, maybe even romance – was gone. Merlin had felt it so clearly last night. Even in the dim moonlight, it could not have been denied.

Was he really going to fall for the trap that had so obviously been set for him? He could not trust anyone right now … But he wanted to. And what if Lancelot was actually telling the truth? Could it be? Could he have returned from the dead on his own, just like that? Could Merlin's impressions from last night really be that wrong?

Right now, there were too many burning questions and no answers to be found … So the warlock had got no choice but to play along and keep his eyes open in case anything out of order would happen.

They quietly finished their meal, all while Merlin could feel Lancelot's dark eyes examining him thoroughly. Surprisingly, the analytic looks seemed to be quite loving underneath it all, which made it even harder for the servant boy to think straight.

When he put down his spoon and lifted his gaze to meet Lancelot's, he still did not really know what to say.

For a few seconds, they just looked into each other's eyes in silence. Lancelot seemed to misinterpret this completely. It only inspired him lean in for yet another tender kiss that repulsed Merlin just as much as it made his heart falter and his insides tingle with foolish pleasure.

"I don't think we should continue like that …", Merlin whispered, shamefully turning his face away from the other man.

"Why not?", Lancelot gently disagreed. "It will be our secret. Nobody has to know …"

"That's not the problem here. The problem is: What are we going to tell Arthur? How can we convince him you are not a sorcerer or a shapeshifter or a walking corpse? What if he sentences you to death simply for being here? Lancelot, I have only just gotten you back. I don't want to lose you once again. I could not bear another death. Least of all yours."

"So, what do you think I'm supposed to do now?"

"Leave. As soon as possible. I can smuggle you out of here in a hooded cloak or something. It's not safe here in Camelot for someone like you."

"It's not that easy, Merlin. I cannot just leave this place behind and go somewhere else. I have sworn loyalty to this kingdom. This is the place where I belong. I'd rather be put to death than having to give up this life again. Or you, for that matter. You have no idea how much I have missed you. I have never had a friend like you before. And it was so lonely behind the veil …"

Lancelot was not asking to stay. He was pleading. His eyes were glowing with panic, his beautiful face was tainted by grief. He clearly did not want to leave again. He would rather be put to death. And there was not way he was acting.

Suddenly, Merlin felt bad about all that he had thought before. Had he really become this mistrustful over the course of the past months? Had he really tried to push Lancelot away like that when the knight needed him so badly right now? How self-centred and spiteful had he become?

Merlin nervously cleared his throat and gave his best to show his friend his gentler side again.

"What was it like?", he asked sympathetically and prepared to listen.

Lancelot's relieved sigh was barely noticeable, but it was there, just a moment before he spoke.

"It was horrible", he explained with a pained frown and shaking voice. "I can hardly explain just how bad it was. It has to be seen – no, _felt_ - to be believed. The whole realm was cold and empty …And endless. Endless hollow space. Nothing but torture for your mind after a while. It starts out harmless, but then it hits you hard. It makes you brittle. To the point where you feel like breaking underneath the slightest touch you long for so much. But that touch never came. My only company were the souls that were either slowly losing their memories or already hollow, unconscious shells of what they once have been. And this … this strange world! I can't describe it, but it is enough to drive the strongest man insane. Please don't make me speak or even think of it again. If I ever go back there, I hope I will be granted to mercy to forget quickly … Being there and being conscious at the same time is impossible. I would not have been able to take that for much longer."

Merlin nodded softly.

"I am glad you made it out of there", he said. "But that is the reason I don't want you to die so soon."

"I don't care. I've seen it all now. Death has taught me the things that really matter. And what matters to me is that I can be here, at Camelot. With you and the other knights. It's what I want more than anything. And if I have to risk my life for the chance, then so I will."

"So I can't convince you otherwise?"

Lancelot smiled weakly.

"No, Merlin. You cannot."

"Hell, you are even more stubborn than me", Merlin joked half-heartedly, but it did not come out right.

Lancelot rubbed his chin and looked aside.

"It's not as if I'm not scared at all", he confessed, "but if I have truly learned something in the other world, it's this: Dying properly is mercy. I don't fear Uther or his laws. Let me face him, I can manage."

"Uther?" Merlin was completely dumbfounded for a second before he remembered Lancelot had 'died' before Arthur had become the new king.

"What's wrong, Merlin?"

"About Uther …" The warlock was lost for words for a moment. "He, too, died some time ago. Arthur has taken his place."

"Good thing you tell me now", Lancelot commented a bit dryly. "But it's okay, it's not like it's important or anything …"

"I'm sorry", Merlin apologised. "I didn't think of it sooner. It feels so natural already. Arthur really does a good job. He might be an idiot most of the time, but at times like these, you can sense that he is destined for great things."

"As are you." Their eyes met. Lancelot's had a serious look about them. "So? Did he change his mind about magic? At least a little?"

Slowly, the warlock shook his head.

"No. Well, not yet …"

"One day, he will", Lancelot promised him and gave him a warm smile. "Peace and freedom will come to this kingdom. _One way or another._"

There was something threatening about the last sentence, but Merlin could not put his finger on it. He told himself once more to better be careful. This quiet, sunny morning could betray his senses any time. However, he could not let his insecurity shine through.

"Well, first of all we have to somehow warm him up to the thought you are back from the dead", he said as cheerfully as possible and got up from the table. "Let me get washed and bring him some breakfast, then he'll probably take a lot better to it. I told you he's not exactly a morning person."

"I remember", Lancelot said and nodded. "I'll just wait here until he is ready for the exciting news."

In an attempt to fake his usual laid-back attitude, Merlin scratched his head with a silly grin on his face.

"Poor Arthur", he sighed theatrically. "He's in for quite a shock …"


End file.
